Outbreak: Ashes
by The Roller
Summary: J's Bar burned to the ground, and the undead cemented their dominance in the streets. Somewhere nearby, a boiler blew. Book Two of The Outbreak Trilogy. Loosely based on RE: Outbreak.
1. Out

**Resident Evil and all of it's characters, locations, etc. belong to Capcom.**

Jack, the "J" in J's Bar, strained to listen. He closed the door to the roof behind him, cutting off the sounds of distant gunfire and screaming. He could've sworn he'd heard a gunshot in the wine room. Which meant people. As far as he knew, once someone came back, activities like wielding guns became well beyond their intelligence range. From what he'd seen, once someone came back, all they were good for was killing. Killing and eating. Standing alone in the stairwell, he couldn't hear anything below him now. A single gunshot wouldn't be enough to take one down, not from what he'd seen. He wasn't sure if they could be killed at all really, but surely they must? Maybe someone had made it into the wine room, pursued by a group of them, drank a bottle of imported rum, and offed themselves? A scenario that was likely happening all over the city, and would be happening for weeks to come. Jack had been born ten years to the day after "War of the Worlds" had been originally broadcast, sending millions into a panic, and in some cases, resulting in these panicked individuals taking their own lives. If they thought well done radio theater was scary, what would these people do when they found the horror and bloodshed taking place on their very own street? Their very own doorstep? It was a simple equation. Thousands would die in Raccoon City, many by their own hand. And nationally? Worldwide? Millions. Likely billions. For the majority of the world, this was the end. But not for Jack. He'd been preparing for this day half of his adult life. He'd always had a feeling in the back of his mind, and as the years wore on, a feeling in the front of his mind even, that he would be around to witness the end. Honestly, he'd always looked forward to it in a way. It was sure to be a grand spectacle, a day written about and speculated on by mankind since he'd walked the earth, and a day that would, ultimately, be witnessed by so few. Based on these first few hours alone, he hadn't been disappointed. From the roof, he'd witnessed a mob of the things chase down a young woman in a red dress, a beautiful blonde, overtake her, and literally tear her apart. Within forty five minutes, what was left of the woman, a head, half a face, one arm, and a torso, was back in action, crawling around on the pavement below, managing to somehow catch a small dog, a half starving mutt, and return the favor.

What goes around...

The tiny dog would surely be down there now, running around looking for it's first victim, only there was nothing left but it's bare skeleton. Literally. There was absolutely no meat left. These things should've scared Jack, but really, they didn't. He surely didn't find them pleasant, he wasn't that sick, but he'd mentally prepared himself for this for years now, or something akin to this anyway. He'd seen things in his life, his past life as a fireman anyway, that he'd never forget. Children, babies, infants, burned, cut, torn, decapitated. Ashes. He'd never forget these things, but they'd served him in a way. They'd hardened him. Prepared him for this day. Judgment day.

The mechanism that opened the shutter to the wine room began to whir. That was fine, Jack figured. Nine times out of ten, the damn thing wouldn't open, and he'd have to call the electrician down the street. As if on cue, the whirring stopped.

"Oh...SHIT!" said someone. A man's voice.

Jack smiled. He'd said the same thing plenty of times before. Another voice now, another man. That was especially troubling. Too much testosterone in a survival situation was how people got shot or stabbed. People that shouldn't. There was a commotion outside the shutter, and soon the mechanism started up again. How the hell? The sound of the shutter rising was capped off with a sharp gasp. Jack smiled again. Things were definitely looking good. All the trouble, time, effort, and money he'd spent over the years preparing. It was all finally paying off. The huge brick wall prop he'd bought years ago for this very purpose. He knew it'd work. At first look and touch, it may as well have been a real brick wall. Enough to keep anyone on the run looking for a quick place to hide moving elsewhere. At first touch, it wasn't so soft or rubbery that the illusion was shattered instantly, and most importantly of all, it was heavy. Not as heavy as a real brick wall of course, but Jack had rigged several chairs and 2x4's behind it, setting it all up in the narrow stairwell so the fake brick wall wouldn't so much as budge if anyone were to try to get through. As if they would. Suddenly, there was a tremendous bang, almost like a gunshot but not, that shook the stairs beneath Jack's feet. Soon after someone began kicking or punching at the faux-brick wall with tremendous force. Jack waited with bated breath, but the wall held. The illusion held. He then heard a woman sobbing uncontrollably then. This piqued Jack's interest. Finding a woman was all a part of the plan he'd laid out. He'd learned in life that a man was wise to take a woman when she presented herself to him. There were times in life when a woman's company could seem like the rarest treasure in all the world. This situation was no different. He'd need to develop some sort of party eventually. Strength in numbers, he knew that. But eventually, when things stabilized, when immediate danger subsided, he would make sure he was on his own again. Supplies would surely be scarce, and he would not be willing to share. Not with just anyone. He was not afraid of death. That wasn't why he went to such great lengths to insure his own safety. He'd done so in order to preserve his own legacy. He'd had a son a long time ago, but he'd died a long time ago as well. Jack wouldn't leave this earth without leaving behind offspring. A legacy. He'd need a woman to do so. He'd make sure there were enough supplies for himself and his mate, and their eventual child. But no more than that. And if the mate of his choosing refused to co-operate? He'd just have to take matters into his own hands. He was no rapist. He wasn't just out to get his rocks off. He was simply seeking to bring new life into this world.

"What do we do? What the HELL do we do?" said the first man.

A pause.

"Here. Help me!" said the second man. The leader.

Suddenly, another great crash. Plaster, wood splintering. Glass breaking. By god, they were tipping over the shelves! All that wine. All that rum. Every kind of alcohol imaginable. Ruined. He looked through a grate into the room below, and saw the carnage. Three men, a well dressed middle-aged man, a large, black security guard, and a young, white cop did the same to the adjacent shelf. Bottles and bottles rained down and shattered. They'd wreck the entire room if he didn't stop them! He rushed down the steps and began to undo the 2x4's holding the chairs in place in front of the fake wall. He'd done a good job and was having trouble dislodging even the first board. Sweat began pouring down his face as he grew even more frantic. He heard another shelf hit the stone floor.

"Stop! STOP!" he shouted. No one seemed to hear.

He struggled with the 2x4 again, and finally managed to break it free. He moved the chair it was holding in place aside, and moved to the next board. Behind him, the grate he'd been peering through slammed inwards, and a moment later was sent flying into the stairwell. Someone was crawling through. The woman. She was through now, but in the dim light he didn't recognize her until she'd turned to face him. It was Cindy! Comely, sweet Cindy. He'd had his eye on her since the very first day she'd come into the bar looking for a job. He wasn't even hiring at the time, but he immediately gave her an application he'd had lying behind the counter. A week later, he fired the college kid he'd had waiting tables for simply confusing a medium-well steak order with a well. All so he could hire Cindy. He quite liked Cindy.

"Jack!" she yelled. She came racing down the stairs to him. Embraced him. Here was his chance. To hell with strength in numbers. Cindy was able. She was young. Together they could survive. Protect each other. Weather the storm. And then...

Another crash broke Jack out of his revery.

"Cindy! W-we have to help your friends. Here! Help me move this out of the way."

She joined him in moving the fake wall aside. As soon as it was out of the way, Jack saw the kid, the cop, throwing an ignited Zippo lighter onto the pile of broken wood, glass, and leaking alcohol.

"NOOOO!"

But he was too late. The pile ignited with a huge start, and the flames danced so high they licked the ceiling. Stepping into the room, he saw what they'd been running from. Saw the reason they'd built this makeshift bonfire. A horde had broken into the wine room. What looked like hundreds of them, with even more cramming themselves in by the moment. The three men turned to Jack in surprise, noticing the now unblocked stairwell behind him. All three made for the exit, the cop grabbing Jack who was still transfixed by the size of the mob advancing even through the flames, and on the flames themselves. Years of collecting, buying, searching. Up in flames. The supplies he'd hidden away in the walk- in humidor. All gone.

"C'mon, let's go!" said the cop.

Goddamn him.

Jack followed him and the rest up the stairs and out onto the roof. They stepped over the young couple he'd dispatched of earlier. The couple that were both clearly infected. He could tell. The fear in their eyes. They knew. And they knew he knew. A helicopter flew over the rooftops to the east. Half a mile away. The cop noticed Jack's flare gun lying on the ground, and picked it up, shooting it into the air. Almost immediately, the helicopter started towards them. The large window behind them shattered, and smoke and flames flew into the night air. Everyone ducked and covered their heads until the flames slightly subsided.

"You goddamned idiot!" yelled Jack.

The cop stopped waving in the rapidly approaching chopper, and turned.

"Excuse me?" he said.

Jack advanced on him and grabbed him by the neck, intending to choke the dipshit to death.

"You ignite thousands and thousands of dollars of my goddamn property! You burn my bar to the goddamn ground! I'll kill you!"

"Jack! Jack, stop!" yelled Cindy.

Jack let go. The cop backed away quickly, holding his throat, unholstering his gun, a .45, and pointing it at Jack.

"You wanna shoot me? Go ahead, cop. Shoot the man whose building you just destroyed!"

The cop took more ragged breaths before lowering the gun. He looked up at the helicopter that was descending upon them. An R.P.D. Chopper. Great. More cops.

The giant blaze coming out of the skylight prevented the chopper from landing, and whoever was inside opted to drop a rope ladder instead.

"Cindy! You're up first!" said the cop.

Cindy began to climb the unsteady ladder up to the helicopter some seven feet above. Jack said a silent prayer for her safety. He watched her behind wiggle as she made the ascent. A policeman was waiting for her at the top of the ladder and took her hand when she reached the top, safely helping her into the helicopter. Jack wondered if there was room for them all inside. The cop turned to him then.

"You next." said the cop flatly.

Jack made his way to the ladder, returning the cop's glare the entire time. He climbed the ladder evenly, taking his time. Slow and steady wins the race. The same officer grabbed his hand and helped him inside. He sat down directly next to Cindy, immediately putting an arm around her. With a clear view of down below, Jack watched the well-dressed man ascend the ladder next. He sat across from Jack and Cindy once he'd reached the top. On the roof, the cop was telling the black security guard to head up next. The black man seemed hesitant. Maybe uncertain of climbing the ladder due to his size. Saying something and waving him on, the cop placed a hand on the ladder, steadying it. Then, the roof caved in. The intense fire and heat doing it's damage and destroying the ceiling's support. Jack had seen it plenty of times as a firefighter. The black man fell quickly into the flames below. Straight down. One second he was there, and the next he was not. The cop managed to hold onto the ladder and then reached out with the other hand, to the black security guard. Even though he was gone. Engulfed in fire. Taken away by flame. Jack held back a smile. It was one less he'd have to eliminate in the end.


	2. Stars

**Resident Evil and all of it's characters, locations, etc. belong to Capcom.**

"Stars."

Jim opened his eyes and saw the night sky. Stars were what he saw, but he swore he'd heard something. In the state he was in, he could've just dreamt it. Something bright was in his periphery, and when he turned to look, he saw David's van on fire. Smoke drifting up to the sky.

What the hell had happened?

He remembered the van running off the road and through the trees, remembered soaring through the air as the ground came closer and closer. Remembered waking up and seeing the dog standing over him. It tearing into him and pulling at his chest. Then how was he alive?

Jim reached up to his chest where the dog had ripped into him, and felt the rip in his shirt. The breast pocket was gone, torn away along with the small packet of beef jerky he'd stored inside. The wifebeater he wore underneath was undamaged, as was he. Somehow. First, he'd been thrown through the windshield of the van, and now this. He supposed all the shitty luck he'd had this past year had finally run out. He'd take hard times over being eaten by a rabid dog any time. The really odd thing was he didn't even feel banged up. He sat up and tried to work out a kink in his neck, only there was none. He felt as if he'd just woken up from a deep sleep, and couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this good. He thought about getting up but decided against it. He'd sit for awhile and get his bearings.

Had David made it out of the car before it went up? He hoped so. The girl too. Michelle, the prostitute. He'd checked her into the motel at the beginning of the week, and based on her interaction with Mickey, she was a regular resident. She'd spent the first night up at Mickey's house. The next day, she'd propositioned Jim, and while it was tempting, he'd decided against it. Her spending the night with Mickey had proven to Jim that she wasn't a cop, but on the other hand, she'd fucked Mickey. Jim had never been one to judge women on past relations, but it was just too much for him. He could've used the lay too. He'd been so stressed out lately, mainly since his girl had left him. She was always too damn jealous and untrusting. He'd been unfaithful in the past, but had re-dedicated himself to her this time around. She wouldn't even tell him why she was leaving as she was packing her things. She was so clearly pissed, he knew there was no point in trying to get through to her. She seemed dangerous even. Whatever. She'd be back. He wasn't worried. He wasn't worried about David either, or Michelle. He knew that they'd gotten away safely. Were probably already in town at the hospital getting patched up.

He heard something in the distance, coming closer. A steady rumble, and then he saw it. A helicopter. A spotlight shone down directly on him, like God's grace. Still seated, he raised one arm up and waved. But they already saw him. He figured David had called the police and told them what had happened while Michelle was being patched up at the hospital.

"Stars."

Jim heard it again, for sure this time. He looked around as the helicopter began to descend to the ground, but saw nothing. It sounded closer than before. And how had he heard it above the sound of the helicopter?

"STARS."

It was so clear and resonant that time, it awoke Jim from his fever dream, his eyes snapping open. Immediately, he felt the tremendous pain in his neck where the dog had torn out a chunk of him. Jim cried out in agony. He saw the van. Destroyed and in flames, knew that David and Michelle had either died in the crash or in the inferno that followed. The helicopter had been real, but the spotlight that shone down on him moved away, and almost immediately, so did the helicopter itself. Jim tried to call out to it, but blood in his throat prevented him from doing so. He coughed, and the thick, dark substance immediately ruined his uniform.

"Stars."

The voice that had awoken him. An inhuman growl almost. As if the dog that had attacked him was speaking to him from it's fiery grave. But, soon, he saw the source of the voice. Stepping around the wreckage of the van, standing in front, silhouetted by the chaos, looking like the devil himself. Jim immediately felt the hate as it's gaze fell upon him. The man was tall. Seven feet at least, clad in an enormous leather trenchcoat. Bald and missing an eye, but as the man grew closer, Jim saw that he was no man at all. Only a sick parody of what a human should like. The skin on it's faced was crudely stitched together, made from varying shades and colors. The mouth was full of large, false, white teeth. Every one straight and in place. Jim could tell because the thing had no lips. The thing's lone white, iris-less eye stared straight into Jim's, and Jim knew his bad luck had culminated. Mercifully, this thing had been sent. An agent of death to put Jim out of his misery. Only as the thing grew closer and bore down on Jim, he knew for certain that this thing was no agent of mercy, but an agent of evil. Maybe even evil incarnate. Truly, the devil come to earth.

"Stars." the thing said again as it reached down, a lone, spiked tentacle slithering out from the sleeve of the trenchcoat.

One large, gloved hand grabbed hold of Jim's head, covering his face entirely, cutting off all oxygen immediately. Jim was unable to scream between the blood in his throat and the lack of air, but inside, he was hysterical. Cursing. Crying. Calling out for anyone or anything to help him. But even if someone were to come, they couldn't save him or themselves from this thing. The devil would lay waste to all men. All cities. Only God could save them now.

There was no God.

There was a quick, sharp pain in Jim's forehead, then nothing.


	3. Backfire

**Resident Evil and all of it's characters, locations, etc. belong to Capcom.**

Rain pounded the roof of the unmarked Cadillac and made it impossible to see out the vehicle's wide windows. David sat slumped in the driver's seat, wearing a soaked, leather jacket and dark shades despite the weather outside. In the passenger seat, his brother, Eliot, stared into the white abyss, silently mulling over what David had just told him. Impatiently, David awaited his mentally handicapped brother's response. Somewhere nearby, a car horn blew. One short, followed by a long one, soon joined by another in a long chorus of unpleasant noise. Thunder sounded overhead, and then it was quiet. David looked over to Eliot who was still staring out the window.

"So...you're leaving?" asked Eliot.

David leaned back in his seat and exhaled.

"Eliot...what did I just tell you?" he said, his irritation getting in the way of his ability to make words.

His brother's mental handicap had always proven to be an annoyance, even when they were kids. All the way through high school, and even now, well into their adult lives. He tried his best to be tolerant of, but at times his temper got the best of him. Now was certainly proving to be one of those times.

"Yeah, I'm leaving. I'm headed out of town tomorrow morning, and I'm going far away. Far, far away." David looked back to Eliot as he said this, only to find the man still looking blankly out of the window into the rain.

Grinding his teeth, David forced himself to hold his tongue and calm himself. After all, this would be the last time he'd see his brother for...well, awhile. He looked away from Eliot and turned to look out into the rain himself. Several minutes passed, and they sat in mutual silence.

"So, it's the gangsters?" said Eliot.

Shocked, David sat up in his seat and turned his whole body toward his brother.

"Jesus, Eliot! No! No, it's-"

Eliot finally turned to look at him then. David looked around, only to find he could still not see through the downpour outside. Thinking it safe, he took off the dark shades and faced his brother.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is. How'd you know?" asked David.

"I know. I know." replied Eliot.

"Yeah."

"I always knew...you weren't like them. You couldn't do the things they do."

David didn't know if that was true or not.

"Eliot, look...some bad guys are after me, and-"

Images of the house blown to pieces the morning before flashed in David's mind. Julie inside, and the money. And the baby. David swallowed a lump in his throat.

"Me and Julie are getting out of town. I can't tell you where. I don't want anybody bugging you about where we are okay?"

Eliot nodded in agreement.

"And I'll get Uncle Jimmy to check in on you once a week just like I used to, okay?"

Eliot nodded again, then, reached over and put a hand on David's shoulder.

"I love you, David."

"...yeah."

Somewhere nearby, a car backfired.

David's eyes snapped open. He'd sat down to rest and had apparently passed out, but for how long he wasn't sure. He felt like shit: even worse than before, like he was coming down with the flu on top of the bruised, or cracked ribs. He tried to get to his feet, managed a squatting position, and then sank back to his knees, groaning in agony. Searing pain in his midsection, as if something were growing outwards from within. His ribs were cracked for sure. He sat in the fetal position, the night throbbing around him. Wind blowing through the trees. Crickets chirping reminded him of summer nights in the old house with Julie.

David began sobbing. An endless stream of tears ran down his face as he bawled loudly, not caring who or what heard him. He cried long and hard until he was out of breath. He stopped for a moment, but immediately started crying again harder than ever. Several minutes passed by as David thought of Julie, then Michelle, then Jim. They were all dead, and their blood was on his hands. He stopped crying then. He didn't deserve to cry.

As he began to regain his composure, he noticed the crickets had ceased their chirping. The night was completely silent save for the wind, but that too soon ceased. Dead leaves, sticks cracking up on the hill he'd just come from. Heavy footsteps Someone was coming. Panic coursed through David's veins. Someone, anyone, was exactly what he needed at the moment, but for some reason, overwhelming dread filled David as the person's heavy, plodding footsteps grew nearer.

Looking around frantically, he searched for a place to hide.


	4. 4

Mark shook Bob, but he remained still, pale, and white.

"Oh, God. Is he dead?" asked Cindy creeping up behind them.

Kevin knelt down and checked his pulse. Still ticking.

"No. Not yet anyway. We gotta get him up and outta here though, or he won't last much longer."

"And then what?" George shuffled over from his corner of the room. "Let him bleed out on the roof in the fresh air instead of this musty old hellhole? That's all the good you're doing him. He can't even stand on his own!"

"WE'LL CARRY HIM GODDAMMIT!" Mark burst out. "We'll carry him as far as it takes. Until we find help because he's my friend."

The large security guards eyes began welling up with tears.

"Shit." he said trying to blink them away. "He's my friend."

Cindy put her hand on Mark's shoulder, consoling him as Kevin guided George by the arm away from them.

"Listen to me." Kevin said under his breath. "You've gotta take it easy. That's his friend over there dying. He don't mean nothing to me or you. I see people get killed all the time. I've seen friends get shot. I'm sure you see people die all the time too, but you've gotta realize that's his friend. We can't give up on him. We've gotta stick it out for him."

Kevin noticed that George was looking through him to Mark, Cindy, and Bob behind him.

"Hey," he said getting the man's attention again. "I'm no doctor, but he doesn't look too good. I don't see him lasting much longer."

"That's what I'm afraid of." said George.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Kevin nodded and looked around at the wine bottles lining the walls.

"Look, you wanna help?" Kevin noticed the doctor's eyes trained on the group across the room again. "Look at me. You wanna help? Go grab the key to the shutter and get it open. Me and Mark will try to get Bob to his feet. Okay?"

George nodded.

"Hey, we're gonna be fine, alright?"

Another dumb nod.

Kevin nodded back before making his way over to the others.

"He's gonna get that shutter open, so we can get outta here. Is he still out?"

"Not quite."Mark said. "He was mumbling something in his sleep just now. It was the same thing over and over. I can't make it out."

The three of them listened intently, staring at the unconscious security guard as they did so. All three of them jumped a bit when his eyes opened.

"Bob! Bob, you're awake!" shouted Mark.

The balding man only stared at them with glassy eyes.

"Bob? You okay, man? We're gonna get ya outta here. Don't worry."

Bob made a pained expression then before letting out a low whine. He then began gesturing with his hands before mumbling something too low to hear.

"Bob, I'm not getting it, man. You've gotta speak up."

Bob mumbled the same thing again, louder this time, but they were still unable to make it out. Bob pushed away from Mark and with a pained expression sat up against the large shelf behind him. He mumbled again, this time with a more agitated tone. The three of them watched him silently, not wanting to irritate him more. Bob watched them, and they watched Bob. All was quiet before they heard the cock of the gun.

"Cindy, step aside." said George coldly.

They all turned to see George pointing the pistol squarely at Bob. Where the hell had he gotten it?

"Hey, George, c'mon. We don't need to do that." Kevin tried to sound calm,but his voice wavered a bit.

"Cindy, I strongly recommend that you move." said George stoically.

Hearing the eerie inflection in his voice, Cindy stood up and quickly moved away. George kept the pistol and his eyes trained on Bob. Mark could only watch helplessly as the scene unfolded.

"George, don't do this." said Kevin trying to diffuse the situation again.

George pulled the trigger.


	5. Rehab

Jack noticed the cop watching the doctor the entire helicopter ride. It was impossible not to feel the tension, even with the chopper's deafening blades and the roller coaster like trajectory of their journey. Something bad was brewing. Jack loved it.

The helicopter descended on the landing pad of the Raccoon Police Department's roof. The landing was shaky and sent a jolt through all of the passengers, but at least they were safe now. Kevin turned the safety lever and slid the large door on the side of the chopper open. He nodded to Cindy and Jack, and they rose and made their way out. His eyes settled on George. He slid the door shut and pounced on the doctor. He jammed his thumbs into the man's eyes. Felt the warm liquid seep out. Reveled in the screams and the begging. Drank it in like it was whiskey. Or vodka.

"Hey, Ryman."

Roberts, the helicopter pilot, was standing outside the open door of the chopper. Everyone else had already gotten off.

"You okay?"

"Yeah yeah." Kevin said as he came back to the real world.

"Let's get downstairs. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you."

He stepped out of the helicopter and looked to the other survivors. Jack had his arm around Cindy and was consoling her. George sulked a good distance behind.

"Hey!" Kevin shouted to the doctor.

George stopped and turned to look at him as he approached.

"Where you goin'? You're under arrest, asshole." Kevin said as he grabbed the doctor's wrist and attempted to apply as pair of handcuffs.

The doctor yanked his wrist away.

"For what?" he asked.

"For what? For murder, you piece of shit!"

Kevin grabbed the man's wrist again and the two began struggling for leverage. Soon, he had the doctor pinned to the ground. A group of officers had just arrived on the roof to greet the group and quickly made their way over to the scuffling men.

"Ryman! Ryman!" A tall, black, middle-aged officer rushed over. "What the hell? Get off, goddammit!"

The officers separated the two men. Kevin struggled against the two men restraining him.

"This shithead's resisting arrest, Marvin!"

"He is, is he? Is this true Dr. Hamilton?"

George brushed himself off.

"No sir, Lieutenant Branagh."

"There you have it, Ryman." said Marvin.

"Wh-"

"Rodriguez, Nelson, escort Dr. Hamilton downstairs and make him comfortable. Get him anything he needs."

The two officers nodded and led the way for George. George nodded to Marvin, then Kevin.

"Thank you, gentlemen."

"Wait! Wait a second!" Kevin called after them.

They descended down the steps and out of sight. Marvin made his way over to Kevin and gave the order for him to be released.

"What the hell are you thinking, Ryman? Do you know who the hell that is?" he asked.

"A murderer! That's who he is! I saw it! Killed a man, shot him!"

"Oh, really? Well, if you hadn't noticed, everybody's killing everybody! And if there was one person in this city that could literally get away with murder, it's him!"

"What? Who the hell is this guy?"

"George Hamilton? Dr. George Hamilton?"

"Like I hadn't guessed he was a doctor. He only wears a stethoscope all around town. Doesn't even take it off to take a piss!"

One of the big men that had been holding Kevin started to laugh.

"Shut up!" said Marvin. "Both of you! Dr. Hamilton has done more for this city than either of you assholes ever will!"

"Marvin, gimme a break. The guy's what? A gynecologist? He feels up soccer mom tits for lumps, while I'm out here getting shot at?"

"I'm talking money, Ryman! Yeah, he's as worthless as any other doctor, but for Raccoon, he's a goddamn cash cow. Born and raised here. Studied at the university. Went off to work at Umbrella, and was there when they went public. Story is, he was the one that was responsible for them setting up shop here. Umbrella AND all of their money. Get it now? As far as HQ is concerned, the man's royalty. Umbrella's been more than generous to the R.P.D. over the years. I know you may be pretty new in town, but I sure as hell thought you were smarter than that."

"Look, why are we up here discussing finances when there's a citywide epidemic?"

"The riots?"

"Yeah, there's more than rioting going on."

"It's being handled. Our best guys are out there taking care of it. It's well in hand."

Kevin looked at Marvin in disgust and shook his head.

"What? You wanna tell me how to do my job now?" Marvin asked. "I've got thirty years on this job, kid. I've handled riots before, I can do it again."

Kevin was so baffled by this entire night all he could do was exhale. Marvin's face lit up then and he looked Kevin in the eye. Kevin knew the look.

"Ryman, I need to talk to you about something in private."

"Yes, sir."

He followed Marvin inside and down a dim, musty hallway. Marvin opened a fancily decorated door at the end and stepped inside. Kevin entered the dusty spareroom. A gas lantern burned in the corner illuminating the various paintings, vases, and gaudy statues that had been left over by the curator of this former museum. As Marvin took his time in addressing him for dramatic effect, Kevin admired the stained glass skylight overhead. A museum turned police station. Who the hell could dream of such a thing?

"Was that alcohol I smelled on you breath, Ryman?" asked Marvin.

Marvin had been instrumental in getting Kevin a second chance after he'd fucked up on the job because of the sauce countless times. The department had been looking to cut their losses and get rid of him, and Kevin didn't blame them, but Marvin had gone to bat for him, and had even gotten the department to pay for his stay in a rehabilitation facility. He wasn't supposed to find out.

"No, sir."

"RYMAN?"

"Yes, sir."

Marvin turned to face him and shook his head. The look of disappointment on his face hurt more than anything.

"Marvin...would you have known it? Is it showing on the j-"

"Ah! Ryman, I don't wanna hear it! After I put my ass on the line for you, this is how you repay me?"

Kevin stared down at his shoes.

Marvin's radio buzzed to life.

"Come in, lieutenant!"

"I thought the phones were down?" asked Kevin.

"But the radios still work, asshole. Are you stupid or is that just the alcohol impairing your brain?"

Marvin spoke into the radio.

"Go for Lieutenant Branagh."

"Lieutenant, we've got considerable rioting and damage down in front of the Apple Inn. The numbers are starting to become overwhelming. Requesting backup."

"You got it. It's on the way."

"Also, lieutenant, that reporter bitch is down here getting in the way. Keeps trying to ask us questions."

Marvin looked over to Kevin who could only shrug.

"Really? Well, tell her I said to stay the hell out of the way."

"Yes, sir. Err, double time on that backup, lieutenant. Things are...things are getting hairy down here."

Considerable commotion could be heard over the tiny radio speaker.

"Dispatching now. Out."

Marvin exhaled and looked at Kevin.

"I'll deal with you later."

"Right. Let's move." said Kevin.

"What?"

"The Apple Inn? Let's get down there."

Marvin began to laugh.

"I'm not going anywhere. I've gotta stay here and make sure nobody accidentally shoots themselves. You're not going anywhere either. I know you're eager to go play tough guy cop for your little reporter girlfriend, but you're not going out on the field after you've been drinking."

"Marvin, I'm not drunk! I had a few drinks, but that was hours ago!"

"Wanna try a breathalyzer? Stay here. Sober up. Jackass."

Marvin exited and slammed the door behind him. Kevin started to follow behind him, but decided against it. It was hopeless.

"Shit."


	6. Morning

**Resident Evil and all of it's characters, locations, etc. belong to Capcom.**

David clanked the metal knocker against the door, taking the time to look around the lonesome deserted back street. The lamp that illuminated this particular stoop had a crack in the bulb cover, and bugs flew in and out while the silhouettes of their fallen comrades could be seen within. David placed the half-burnt cigarette in his mouth and knocked again, but heard no movement within the dark house. Looking around again, anxious, he noticed mail littering the stoop adjacent to the one he was standing on. The mailbox had overflowed and vomited the excess mail to the green welcome mat below. He'd noticed an old woman, ancient, peeking out of the storm door at him on his prior trips here. Her prospects weren't looking good at the moment. He wondered why nobody else had suspected the worst with at least a weeks worth of postage neglected in the mailbox. Maybe she was on vacation?

Cigarette smoke engulfed his head and stung his eyes (but in a good way) as he reached to use the old cheesy door knocker again. Before he could, the heavy, paint chipped door swung open, revealing the sleepy eyed, clearly irritated, yet still beautiful creature behind it. David met her unamused gaze with one of indifference, picked up the leather satchel at his feet, and pushed by her into the house. The trail of cigarette smoke followed him into the small kitchen.

"Excuse me!" called Julie behind him. "Well, just come on in! Make yourself comfortable!"

David placed the satchel on the table, and moved over to the cabinet above the sink. He noticed a water color painting hanging above the sink she'd done of a sinking ship in stormy waters. Fitting. He began rummaging through the cabinet, noisily placing ceramic plates and bowls on the counter.

"Hey! What is your problem? Do I come to your house and just throw your shit around?" Julie pulled on David's shoulder, but he continued digging through the cabinet, eventually pulling down a small, clear vase. He filled it halfway at the sink, and took it over to the table and set it down. Noticing a dangling mass of ash was all that remained of his cigarette, David walked back to the sink and dropped it in. Walking back to the table, he unzipped the leather satchel, and withdrew a bouquet of lilacs and set them down into the vase.

"Aw, my favorite." said Julie unaffected. "That is sweet, David, but did you have to wake me up at four in the fucking morning for this?"

David stood watching her patiently. Admiring the view, although to most people, this screeching hellcat in a robe and no makeup wasn't all that much of a sight to see.

"David, look, I don't know how many times we've been through this, and I hate to sound cold, but nothing is EVER going to happen between us. Okay? Are you hearing me?"

David closed his eyes and cleared his throat before taking the unzipped satchel and turning it upside down, dumping out 80 bunches of rolled 100 dollar bills. Not all his of course, but the boys had agreed to let him borrow the entire pot for dramatic effect. Noticing the vase threateningly close to tumbling off the table on account of the avalanche of green, he lifted it up above the table until the rolled bills had all settled onto the table and floor below. He set the vase back down, and looked at Julie, whose eyes were wide and mouth agape, totally awake now, as she attempted to comprehend that her life was about to change. She finally met David's eyes and a small grin crossed her lips.

They moved to the bedroom and made love. Passionately the first time, slowly the second time, and with varying degrees of force the following times, David taking liberties at times, unloading the frustration he'd felt over this woman over the years. All the times he'd fantasized about doing this with her, and here he was, finally. In between their lovemaking, they would talk about their prospective futures together, mostly Julie talking while David listened. That pattern carried on until 10 the following morning, when they finally drifted off into sleep wrapped up in each other.

Months later, long after the old lady next door had been hauled off, after the crack in the lamp finally grew and burst, and long after the initial buzz of the money had worn off, they'd become genuinely in love with one another, and now they argued often. She worried more about David than she did the flow of money, and one night after a particularly close call with a bullet grazing off the very top portion of his ear, Julie declared she wanted him out of "the life." This was the first time of many in which David would agree just to appease her, but knew deep down nothing would change. Maybe they both knew it. As time wore on, the arguments became more intense.

"You know what I realized today? That no matter how hard I try, or how much I don't give a shit, nothing really seems to change one way or the other. I can't even hold down a job in a goddamn shoe store, Julie!"

"Because you were an hour late three days in a row! I would've fired you if I were them! And you were late because you were out all night pretending to be a fucking mobster!"

Eventually, David made an attempt to work less jobs with the boys, mainly because she always seemed to find out, and to focus on finding and keeping a steady day job. He wasn't sure if she meant it when she threatened leaving him, but he only needed to hear it once for it to stick. At this point, he couldn't imagine life without her, even loathed the rare weekend when she left to see her ailing mother in Jersey City. He tried a little harder each day, and started to try even harder once she got pregnant. It wasn't planned, but what ever was?

She was finally beginning to show around the middle on the night Sean and Tommy had called him about a big score. One last job, to pad them out nice and good. Maybe even enough for him to quit his shitty job at D'Angelo's Pizza, and he could just pretend to go to work during the day; just to keep Julie off his back. Either way, he'd never find out, as that was the one time they apparently stole from the wrong people. Sean and Tommy were dead by 6 the next morning, both shot dead along with their families in bed, and David and Julie's house was blown sky high by noon. Not really fair considering it wasn't even David's name on the lease, and even less fair considering Julie had never committed a crime in her life, let alone the baby inside her. The cheesy, antique door knocker had landed right next to David's head on the sidewalk as other debris rained down upon and around him. Heavier than it looked, if it landed a little closer, it may have just taken David out of his misery, and most days he wish it had.

In the movies or TV, he would've gone into hiding, gotten his bearings, scraped together a few contacts, gotten stocked up, loaded to the teeth with weaponry, and go after the goons that killed his friends, girlfriend, and unborn baby, but this wasn't the movies. Or TV. Instead, he'd gotten the hell out of town, leaving behind his handicapped brother to possibly be capped just for knowing him. Luckily, the goons hadn't been that lowdown, or they just hadn't known he'd had a brother, but he was left alone. Still, David had practically left him to the wolves all to save his own ass. That haunted him daily, as did Julie, as did Sean and Tommy, as did the baby he never even got to see via sonogram , but the one thing that haunted him far and above all else was that bright light that hot morning when the house went up. He saw the light before he even had time to register what had happened, was blinded by it. It was like the sun itself had exploded, and as far as he knew at that moment, it had. More often than not, he would be awoken at least once a night, remembering the bright, blinding light that had ruined his life forever.

So bright.

The morning light had become pre-afternoon light, and the hollow tree that David had sought refuge in could no longer protect his closed lids from the brightness outside. He opened his eyes and looked straight out into green and brown forestry ahead. He made a mental self-inventory, slightly moving his extremities to ensure nothing was broken. He wasn't sure how much of what he remembered from the night before had actually happened, and for the moment, wasn't exactly sure why he'd decided to spend the night in a hollow tree in the forest, but he thought nothing of it. His arms, legs, and neck were fine, if not a tad stiff, but sleeping in a tree would do that. He moved to shimmy forward out of the makeshift shelter, and the pain in his ribs returned from the night before, along with all of the memories as well. The job, Mickey, Michelle, Jim, the kid in the road, the van, the dog.

The Devil.

David sat back against the tree behind him as a chill ran through him, partly from the pain of his cracked ribs, but mostly from the thought of what he'd seen the night before. The reason he'd hidden inside of this tree and had stayed there. He knew he hadn't actually seen The Devil the night before, but that was the first thing that had come to his mind involuntarily, as if the thought hadn't actually been his own. Whatever ("Whoever" he mentally corrected himself) he saw, he'd only caught a glimpse of it from his hiding spot. Just the leg, the boot actually, as the leg was concealed under a long, leather trench coat, but that big, black boot alone was all he needed to see. He'd heard it before he'd seen it. Large, plodding, and somehow, foreboding, like the oncoming footsteps of an executioner as you're strapped in the guillotine. Or like The Devil's footsteps. Either way, it wasn't just the fact that this person was big, but the feeling that ran through David as he heard it approaching. He may have even felt it before he could hear the footsteps, but he wasn't sure. David had been in some sticky situations in his past life, and he'd never turned tail and run before. Until last night.

Christ.

David took a deep breath and clenched his teeth, fighting through the pain until he was out in the sun, the breeze, and the fresh air. He lay on his back, attempting to find a position that didn't send a searing pain through his mid-section, but he couldn't. The thought crossed his mind that whatever (whoever) he'd seen the night before was still out here looking for him, but he knew he was safe. He wasn't sure how, but he could feel it. The sun was out, the birds were singing, and the breeze made the day pleasant instead of uncomfortably hot. Too nice of a day for The Devil to take a stroll in.

Sitting up brought tears to David's eyes, but he managed, then actually managed to stand. He felt horrible, but he knew he wasn't far from the city. He started to walk in the direction he'd been headed in the night before, towards the city in the trail of The Devil.


	7. Job

**Resident Evil and all of it's characters, locations, etc. belong to Capcom.**

"Congratulations! We're gonna miss you around here."

"Thanks! You too. Well, it's not like I'm really going anywhere."

Kevin stared back at his red-eyed, unshaven reflection and pretended not to listen to the conversation behind him. He had barely made it to the station on time, hadn't had time to shower, and he could smell the alcohol seeping through his pores. It was never a good sign when you were well-aware of your own body odor. Anybody would be able to tell what he'd been up to the night before with one look at him (or one whiff of him), but being hungover wasn't a crime. He had shown up on time after all, just not much more than that. He fumbled around with the things in his locker, trying to look busy until the room cleared and he could have a moment to himself. He kept a flask of Jameson's well-concealed on the top shelf wrapped up in a few pair of (clean) Hane's briefs still in their package, and he could definitely go for a little hair of the dog.

Hearing the congratulatory cop behind him say his goodbyes and wander off, Kevin looked into the mirror in his locker door to see if he was finally alone in the room. He managed to catch the tail end of the watchful eye the woman behind had been giving him. Now she readjusted the weight of the box she was holding, containing the contents of her now empty locker, and looked around the otherwise vacant locker room, as if searching for something she may have been forgetting, though there was clearly nothing.

_Do I be an asshole, or do I act gracious in defeat for once?_ thought Kevin. _Both._

"Hey, Jill." Kevin dropped his keys into his locker and turned to face the petite brunette. "Today's the day, huh?"

Jill seemed surprised he'd spoken at first.

"Yeah. Today's the day. Just taking one last good look around before I head upstairs."

"Yeah. We're gonna miss you down here."

"Well, I'm not really going anywhere. Just a few flight of stairs away."

Was she just reciting rehearsed lines, or did she really believe she was still going to be one of them after today? It was hard to tell.

"Yeah. Yeah." Kevin tried to think of something else to say, and his eyes fell onto the box in her arms overflowing with all kinds of things. "Got enough junk in there, Valentine?"

Jill laughed a little, politely.

"I know, right? Luckily, I've got a whole desk to keep this stuff in now."

A subtle dig? He didn't think so. Just what happened sometimes in the interactions between the royalty and the peasants. Still...

"Well, ain't you fancy now?"

"No. I'm still a slob. My desk will probably be just as messy as my locker was."

It was Kevin's turn to chuckle politely now. Well, this was going nowhere. Better do something.

"Jill, I just wanted to say...it's been-"

"Jill! Jill, you about ready?"

The muscle-bound goon that was Chris Redfield rounded the corner into the locker room, and saw the two standing there.

"Hey, what's up, man?" Chris addressed Kevin.

"Hey."

"You got everything together?" He spoke to Jill.

"I think so. Just saying goodbye to everyone."

"Well, they're waiting on ya upstairs."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm ready then."

"Here, let me help you."

Chris stepped into the room and took the box Jill had been struggling to hold with ease and stepped back out of the room without another word, disappearing into sunny lobby beyond.

"Bye. I'll see you around." Jill followed Chris out into the lobby.

"Yeah, see ya." said Kevin.

When she'd gotten a good distance away from the room, Kevin fell back against his locker and exhaled. He took the flask down from the top shelf and drank from it, no longer caring who was around. Swallowing a long gulp, he twisted the cap back on and closed the locker. When he did he was met face-to-face with a dumb grin.

"Shit! Why do you always sneak up like that?"

"Hey, man. It's cool. Be cool." The red headed man spoke with a thick, Southern accent and set down a box of his own belongings. He settled his fingers but not his thumbs down into the pockets of his jeans, like a cowboy might. Forest Speyer was on his way upstairs as well.

"What?" Kevin finally asked as Forest continued watching him.

"Well?" Forest asked with a sly grin.

"Well, what?"

"Well, did ya?"

Kevin scratched his dry scalp irritably.

"Could you be a little more specific?"

"Valentine, man."

"Shut up."

Forest began guffawing and leaned up against the locker for support.

"C'mon, man. Don't be like that."

"Like you didn't see what just happened?"

"No, man, I musta missed it."

Kevin narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

"Aw, c'mon, I'm just messing with ya. Yeah, I heard it. Wasn't much to hear I must say."

"Yeah, well, it would've turned out different if meathead wouldn't have turned up."

"Ol' Redfield? C'mon, now, don't be like that. Ol' Redfield's alright."

"He's a dick."

Forest began guffawing again, this time using Kevin for support, as if he was on the verge of collapse.

"Look, man, you didn't answer my question. So...did ya?"

Kevin spread his arms out and shrugged.

"Did I what?"

"Seriously now. You gonna make me say it? You know she's about. I don't care, man, I'll go ask her then."

"Are you asking me if Jill Valentine and myself..."

"Fucked."

"Made love. I was gonna say made love."

"Whatever, man. Did ya, or didn't ya?"

Kevin opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Forest started to laugh again.

"Man, say no more. At ease, soldier. Can't say you didn't try."

"What? I didn't even tell you yet."

"Yeah, you didn't have to. At any rate, you know the bet, you know the wager, so let's see some of that green stuff, and I ain't talkin' moss, brother."

"You...you're a shitty friend, you know that. Kicking a man while he's down. Here I am, hungover, heartbroken, and now you're taking money from me."

Forest guffawed yet again.

"Heartbroken? Hang on, now. Heartbroken? The bet was to fuck her before she joined S.T.A.R.S., not to marry her, buddy. Now hand over the scratch, me and President Jackson got to get reacquainted."

"You're gonna have to settle for four Lincolns."

"Shit, that's alright by me."

"Look, I don't know. I don't need some stupid bet to wanna fuck her. She's got a name straight out of a porno for Christ's sakes. We just really...connected this past year."

"Oh, please!" bellowed Forest as he took the money from Kevin.

"Yeah! We connected. In fact, if we hadn't connected, I would've closed the deal a loooong time ago. Way before your stupid bet."

"So that's why you couldn't seal the deal? You didn't wanna ruin your chance at true love?"

"...yeah."

Forest began laughing yet again. He was going to have an aneurism at this rate.

"Shut up. You've got your money. Leave me the hell alone. Go buy a Skynyrd record."

"I've already got 'em all."

"Yeah, I bet."

"Kevin, it's okay. You don't have to have sex with every woman that works here." said a female voice behind them.

Jan, a heavy set, middle-aged cop approached them from the back of the room. Apparently, she'd been there all along.

"Who says I have to have sex with every woman that works here?"

"Well, everybody. You've got quite the reputation around the station."

"Oh, yeah. What are they saying?" asked Kevin, interested now.

"That you're a whore."

Forest erupted in laughter. If the previous outbursts were just tremors, this was a full blown earthquake.

"Shut up! I'm a whore? Gimme a break. I've slept with like, what, two women that have ever worked here?"

"What about Leslie?"

"What about her? Nothing happened."

"I walked in on you two screwing in the dark room on Christmas Eve. It was hard to look her in the face after that."

"It was hard to look her in the face before that." Forest said.

"Why do you think we were doing it in the dark room?" Kevin quipped.

The two men erupted in laughter, clutching their sides.

"You two are horrible! She quit because you stopped calling her. She was good too. A lot more reliable than the old bag out there now. I'm surprised you haven't tried to screw her yet."

"What? The new receptionist? She's like 80."

"Who says that's stopping you?"

Jan and Forest both guffawed at that one, high-fiving one another.

"Okay! Okay! Laugh it up. I really don't need this shit. I'm hungover as I'm sure you can see."

"And smell."

"And smell. I just lost my last twenty bucks, and my daily eye candy is gone, never to return."

"C'mon, Kevin, don't feel too bad." A new voice, a man's. "Everybody knows Jill's banging Redfield. You never had a chance."

Work boots approached them from the back where Jan had been, and Dean rounded the corner to join them.

Kevin craned his neck around the corner to see if anyone else was back there.

"Is there a hidden trap door in here somewhere that I don't know about?"

"Look, man, if it's any consolation, I came on to her months ago, and she flatout denied me. She only likes those muscle heads like Redfield. She's a total size queen."

"So because she turned you down, no one else could possibly stand a chance, huh?" asked Forest.

"Hey, I'm not a bad looking guy. I do alright for myself. I'm just telling you what I know. Redfield's banging Jill. Hard."

"Okay, can you stop saying that?" Kevin asked.

"Fine. But why else do you think she got promoted to S.T.A.R.S., and we're still helping old ladies cross the street? I had to help the new receptionist on the way into work today." Dean said.

"Look, I could be in S.T.A.R.S. if I really wanted to." Kevin said. "And Forest, if you say something about me screwing Chris Redfield, I swear to God..."

"You really think you're S.T.A.R.S. material, Kevin?" Jan asked.

"S.T.A.R.S. Material? Please. Glorified goddamn detectives. I've done my time on the street. I know what's what. I'm missing, what, a few dozen hours of some rinky dink university courses? No thanks."

"Yeah, well...I've got it on good authority that Jill lets Redfield stick it in the backdoor." said Dean.

Kevin exhaled and immediately threw open his locker, removing the flask.

"See this? This is my only friend in this goddamn station."

"What the hell is this? This isn't a social gathering, people!"

Marvin.

Kevin quickly stuffed the flask behind the pack of Hane's and slammed the locker shut. Forest picked up his box of clutter and exited the room. Marvin rounded the corner.

"Ryman!" He gave Kevin the once over. "Hell. You look like shit, son."

Jan and Dean dispersed as well.

"Yeah, well..."

Marvin evidently caught a whiff of Kevin.

"Take a shower before you hit the streets, will ya?"

Marvin made his way out of the locker room.

Kevin was relieved to be alone at last, and just before he turned to open his locker, Forest walked by the open locker room door holding his box of junk in one hand, and waving the four green bills in the other. Grinning widely all the while. Kevin couldn't help but grin himself.

Forest's face on the memorial placard in the RPD's break room grinned goofily at Kevin even now. Kevin stubbed out the finished cigarette and took a sip of lukewarm coffee. He looked at the picture of Forest all dressed up in his graduation uniform as long as he could, and finally had to look away. He needed a drink.

The city was going to hell outside, and he was lucky enough to be hidden away here. Somehow he didn't feel so lucky. He'd been given his orders, but sometimes, orders are given for the sole purpose to be broken. Well, maybe not, but Kevin did sometimes anyway. Something was happening in Raccoon that the sleepy city had never had to contend with before. Cannibal killings. Gruesome scenes straight out of a horror movie. Now, riots in the street.

When someone with authority, especially someone you respect gives you orders, you feel compelled to follow them. However, Kevin had seen what he'd seen. Marvin hadn't. These cannibal killings were thought to have been perpetrated by a few individuals, but now it seemed like half the damn city was in on the act. The city of the damned. It was all too much. He was no coward, but heading back into that nightmare was the last thing Kevin wanted to do. If his orders were to hang around and drink coffee, he was happy to do so.

He thought of Alyssa, and got up from the table, exiting the tiny, stale-aired room.


	8. Rookie

**Resident Evil and all of it's characters, locations, etc. belong to Capcom.**

The cop and the rookie cruised on their beat down South Christopher Columbus. The older man switched the radio station to alternative rock, hoping to elicit some kind of response from the younger cop. For the past four hours, the two had driven in silence without any kind of action to break up the monotony. He thought the younger cop must've been nervous. First week on a new beat with a new, more experienced partner would do that. Make you nervous of making a mistake, when, really, the older cop's entire career had been one constant mistake. Really. Cops had it made in South Philadelphia though. Plenty of side action and not enough interested opposing parties to condemn it. And it sure as hell beat an office desk job.

The younger cop had been on the streets for nearly two years now. Coming up on January would make two. The older cop had been on for seven years, but he looked and seemed at least twenty years older than the younger cop. He'd kept quiet, deciding to focus from the passenger seat on the streets that passed them by instead of making small talk with the older officer. He wasn't here to make friends, and from the little conversation that had passed between the two of them, he was sure they never would be. Which didn't mean they couldn't work well together, it just meant things would take time is all. Eventually, they would fall into a routine and learn to work well together. For now, he was content to ride on in silence. Eyes and ears open.

The Wednesday night traffic was scarce this time of night. The South Street crowd was pretty much cleared out as most establishments were closed by this time during the week. A stark contrast to how crowded the area would become in just a few days time at night. The weekends would be the only time they'd catch much action, and even then, the extent of it would likely be stopping drunk, college kids from stealing traffic cones or beating the hell out of each other. All the while making drunken quips while their buddies laughed as if they were at a comedy show. There was one thing the younger cop and older cop had in common even if they didn't realize it. Both of their bloods would boil and they would each see red at the frat boys insults. Until then, the younger cop had always stopped himself from acting on his anger. The older cop had never even known anger could be suppressed.

The patrol car continued on in the dark, mostly deserted night, the only sound coming from the car radio softly playing "Evenflow" from the nearest alternative station. The volume was low enough so as not to drown out the transistor radio should a transmission attempt to reach them. However, that night, one never did. They slowly pulled into a pale lit, nearly deserted gas station, coming to a halt beside a gas pump.

"A tip from the veteran to the rookie, always stop here for gas. They give a half off discount on gas for cops, and usually let us get snacks for free."

The older cop unbuckled his seat belt from his vast, unconditioned belly as he looked at the younger cop.

"Yeah. Thanks for the heads up." The younger cop nodded quietly.

"Not a problem. That's what I'm here for, y'know? Want anything?"

"Uh, a bottle of water would be good." Said the younger cop not wanting to put a damper on the more experienced cop's generosity.

"That's it? C'mon, man. You gotta learn to pack up. Take some stuff home with you for later. Shit, it's free. Put some meat on those skinny bones of yours."

"No. That's okay. Thanks though." Said the younger cop barely veiling his irritation by this point.

"Alright, kid. Your loss."

Kid.

They would never understand the other. No matter how long they worked together. The older cop started pumping gas into the patrol car before entering into the tiny convenience store. The younger cop could see him from inside the window, towering over the small, Chinese man behind the counter. From his posture, the two were familiar with one another. A lot of cops had deals with convenience stores and fast food places, promising to look out for them in exchange for free stuff. These deals were usually set up with uninformed employees instead of the owner or manager. Since the majority of these places were insured, having cops looking out for you was pretty much pointless, especially considering they were never around when something actually went down. It was all a con basically. Something cops were supposed to prevent, not partake in. He'd never approved of it, even from his earliest days on the streets.

The older cop emerged from the convenience store with a huge paper bag filled to the brim with bags of chips and candy. Before getting back behind the wheel, the older cop replaced the gas pump back to it's holster and re-fastened the gas cap. Back in the car, the large man struggled to place the bag in the back seat from the driver's seat. His large belly was caught on the steering wheel and prevented him from turning entirely.

"Here. I got it." The younger cop took the paper bag and placed it on the floorboard behind the driver's seat.

"Thanks, kid. I forgot your water, by the way. Sorry about that."

"That's okay. No problem."

He hadn't asked.

They pulled away from the gas pump and back onto the dark road. The bright, neon lights of the Kitty Pride strip club illuminated the surrounding area. A small, red convertible pulled quickly out of the parking lot, wavering as it hit the curb. The younger cop straightened up in his seat, while the older cop barely seemed to notice. They followed behind the convertible as it took the ramp onto the expansive, deserted freeway. The tiny red car continued on for awhile without incident, the driver likely aware of the patrol car close behind. Soon, though, the car wavered a bit. Immediately, the older cop flicked on the blue lights atop the patrol car. Acceptant of this development, the red convertible pulled to the side of the freeway quickly and submissively. The patrol car came to a halt several yards behind and the younger cop opened his door to exit.

"Hold it."

The younger man stopped and looked back into the car.

"I'm gonna handle this one. Just stay here and watch. Watch and learn."

"Look, I know I'm new, and you've been doing this a lot longer."

"Uh-huh."

"But I know how to handle a routine traffic stop, okay? I'm not completely in the dark here."

"Kid...I handle things a little...differently. We all do down here. Just trust me."

The older cop exited the car and headed toward the convertible. The younger cop slammed the door behind him and sat back into the calm glow of the dashboard. He knew who the convertible belonged to, and he knew who was behind the wheel. So did the older cop, only neither knew what the other did. How could they?

The older cop asked the blonde to step out of the car. Her hair blew in the night wind, and she looked tired, not drunk. Maybe high, but that wasn't much her way. Not while she was working anyway. The younger cop had never seen her look better.

Soon, the older, larger man led her around to the other side of the convertible. Dark and concealed to any passerby on the road. He looked the younger cop inside the car dead in the eye as he did so. He stood speaking to the blonde. She was obviously reluctant and cold. Scantily clad and the night was cold and windy. The older cop then forced him self against her. Pressing her back against the passenger door of the convertible. The younger cop hadn't seen any kind of resistance from the woman. What was he doing?

Doing her best to escape the large man, the blonde managed to turn to her side, trying to keep him at arms length, but he was too strong. He spun her to wear her back was facing him. Hiking up her short skirt, he began to pull down her green thong. Inside the car, the younger cop was frozen. This was how things were done on this side of town? This was how bad things had gotten? The lieutenant had purposely put these two together. Said the younger cop could learn a lot. Surely he hadn't meant this? The older man meant for him to watch. Trusted him not to tell anyone. This could ruin him, if the younger cop told. The older man was extremely popular in the cop community. Seemed to know everyone and was well liked. Who was he to ruin this guy? He'd have no allies.

The older cop got the panties down and began stroking the blonde's exposed underside. The younger cop looked away. He couldn't bear to watch. When he did, he caught a glimpse of himself in the rear view. He looked scared and pathetic. When he'd dreamed of becoming a cop, he'd promised himself not to look the other way. To do the right thing no matter what it took. He caught a glimpse of his badge and name tag in the mirror in the dim light of the dashboard: 'YDENNEK reciffO'

He exited the warm refuge of the car into the cold and wind. The older cop heard the door slam, and pinned the struggling blonde against the car as she continued to struggle. He turned to the younger cop, speechless.

"Let her go."

The blonde turned her head then, attempting to see the source of the voice.

"Leon?" she called out.

Surprised, the older cop turned to him, looking somewhat amused.

"Wow, Kennedy. Never figured you for a strip club going man. Thought you were queer for awhile." The older cop taunted Leon.

Leon clenched his fist. He'd never stepped foot into the Kitty Pride. Hadn't had any idea of the girl's profession for the longest time. By the time he'd learned, it was too late to care. They were in too deep with one another. Hooked.

"Shut up. Let her go, Delaney."

The older man, with his gaze still fixed on Leon, began fingering the blonde's ass. She tried her best to restrain a whimper. Of fear? Pleasure? Leon didn't care. He unholstered his gun and aimed it at the older man.

"What? Are you gonna shoot me, Kennedy?" Delaney laughed. "Go ahead, kid. Shoot me."

He began to laugh again.

"Goddammit! I'm not gonna ask you again!"

"Kid! You're blowing this out of proportion! I'm a paying customer! All the money I've given this girl over the years. I practically paid her way through college for fucks sake!"

Leon knew she had never been to college.

"The least she can do is give me a little neck to get her way out of a ticket. That's it. Now calm down. Get back in the car."

"Let her go."

"KID! You don't like me?! Fine! I don't like you much either. We can go to Lou. Get you reassigned. I'll put in a good word for you. Get you in a good house uptown. Okay?"

Leon's heart was beating harder and louder than he could ever remember before.

"Step away right goddamn now. Get your fuckin' hands off her."

"Fine, kid. Don't like me feeling up your skank girlfriend?" Delaney said, exhaling exhaustively.

Leon had seen his father rape his mother more than once. He'd made Leon watch all the time from the time he was only four. The lieutenant hadn't known that. Delaney didn't know. How could they?

Before stepping away from the blonde, Delaney forced his middle and fore fingers into her vagina. The blonde cried out, struggling to get free.

"Gee, Kennedy. I bet she doesn't get that wet for you."

Removing his fingers, Delaney stepped away with his hands in the air and a smile on his face.

"So, am I under arres-"

Leon pulled the trigger and all the blood and brain matter in Delaney's head exited onto the ground under the street light behind him. The older cop collapsed hard to the ground. Leon stood frozen to the spot, doing his best to justify his actions in his mind. Soon, sirens could be heard in the distance. Maybe headed elsewhere, maybe headed for him. Maybe.

No matter the story he could come up with, they weren't going to both walk away clean. One, but not the other.

He walked over to her, dazed, dropping the gun to the ground next to Delaney's body. Leon's serial number. She'd pulled up her thong, and righted her skirt, but her hair was a mess. He grabbed her, but not in the way Delaney had. She returned his embrace, and they stood under the streetlight, sobbing.

The sirens were getting closer.

He managed to pull himself from her embrace, though it wasn't easy. He looked over the edge of the freeway railing, down to the back alley below. The dumpster was open and filled with trash. It wasn't a long fall and his drop would be cushioned.

"I can't take the fall for this for you." said the blonde from behind him.

"I wouldn't expect you to."

"I'm sorry." She choked out. Strained behind her sobbing.

Leon jumped the railing of the freeway down to the alley below.


	9. Eye

**Resident Evil and all of it's characters, locations, etc. belong to Capcom.**

Walking through the ground-level parking lot of the Raccoon Police Department, Kevin could see the street beyond the locked mesh gate. Considering the carnage he'd been privy to, he half-expected to see a war zone with the police department stuck square in the middle, but there was nothing. The asphalt gave a pale glow as the street lights reflected off the light rain that had just begun to fall. No one wandered the streets; not even a lone car drifted by. Had Kevin's imagination overblown what he'd experienced? Maybe it wasn't uncommon for someone to amplify a traumatic experience into an apocalyptic scenario, but Kevin wasn't a high school kid who'd just had his first fender bender. He'd been shot at, he'd done the shooting, but this wasn't your run of the mill cops and robbers. This was hell on earth. This was human beings tearing each other apart with their bare hands. Eating one another. Who in the hell wouldn't take something like that seriously? Perhaps that was the just the way of the world, and this was the next evolution in urban violence. Rioting, looting, revolution was one thing that held various physiological and social implications depending on the culture, but mass mayhem for the sake of cannibalism? What in the hell was that? How was this one going to be squared away in the history books? Kevin had certainly never heard of anything like it; not on American soil anyway.

Approaching the small, fluorescent illuminated booth, Kevin knocked on the glass harshly, just to catch whoever was inside off guard. Once he was inside and realized it was Tucker, he was amused he had.

"Shiiiit!" Tucker exclaimed, laughing. "You nearly just pissed my pants, Ryman! Don't do that, man. Not tonight!"

"Sorry, guess I couldn't resist. Just wanted to make sure you were awake in here."

"Awake? Hell yeah, I'm awake tonight! I may sleep a few hours away most any other night, but...no. Not tonight."

"What have you heard?"

"Oh, I've heard just about the worst shit you can imagine. How much of it's true I can't say."

"Well, humor me."

"I've heard it's the end of the world. The Book of Revelation and shit. The dead rising to walk the earth and shit. People eating their own families and shit."

"And shit."

"And shit. A lotta and shit. And seeing as how you're still here after working all day, it must be all hands on deck. Must be at least half as bad as they say. And if it's even half as bad, then God help Raccoon City."

Kevin sat leaned against the desk with his arms folded and nodded. What could he say? Tucker nodded back, one eye on Kevin, his lazy one on the fluorescent bulb above.

"That's right. God help Raccoon City." Tucker repeated. "Oh, boy."

"Look, Tuck, the reason I'm here. It's complicated, but I wanna help. I wanna be out there, not stuck in here waiting for this to blow over."

"Marvin gave you orders to remain at the station?"

Kevin barely concealed a grin at Tucker's such proper turn of phrase, most likely a remnant from his time in the Navy years ago.

"Yeah, I'm stuck here on Marvin's orders."

"And you wanna be out there?"

"Yeah."

"You wanna be in the middle of all that bloodshed and gunfire?"

"Well...yeah."

"Kevin, I have known you for many years, and I consider you a friend. I really do. I think you are a fine officer, and a good person. That's right. But I have never considered you to be a soldier, or a fighter. And if what I hear is true."

"It is."

"Then this is a war tonight. For however long it lasts, this is a war. So, what's up?"

"It's Alyssa."

"Uh-huh. The reporter?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. Yeah, I like her."

"She's in trouble."

"If she's anywhere but here in this city, I should say she is. Where is she?"

"Apple Inn. Just off Main."

"I know it. And that's where most of the rioting is reportedly taking place."

"Right. I hear it's bad. Which as thick headed as she is, means she's gonna be right in the middle of it. She's usually right in the middle of the trouble."

"From what I hear, she's usually the one causing it."

"...Yeah."

"But she means something to you?"

"Yeah. Everything at this point."

Tucker suddenly launched a set of keys towards Kevin. Kevin quickly snatched them out of the air and read the label attached: 'RC- P72'.

"Mind reader." said Kevin.

"Call it intuition. Go get her. And make it quick. On nights like these, Marvin makes the rounds to make sure everything is running like it should. I can't cover for you."

"You know how many times I've had someone tell me that?"

"Huh?"

"Thanks, Tuck."

"No problem. I'll even raise the gate for you."

"You're too kind."

"And Kevin?"

Kevin poked his head back into the small office.

"For Gods sake, be careful, boy."

Kevin turned and headed for patrol car 72.


	10. Rebecca

**Resident Evil and all of it's characters, locations, etc. belong to Capcom.**

"C'mon, Chambers, there's plenty of room for two."

"Um...that's okay. I'll just sleep upstairs."

"Look, it's no trouble at-"

"Goodnight, Dean."

Rebecca quickly shut the door to the dark room behind her and shuddered in the dim, deserted police department hallway. She'd planned on catching a few hours sleep on the cot in the dark room, a rarely traversed area of the station this time of night. She knew as much, because she'd spent the majority of nights there for the past two weeks. After what had happened in the mansion in the woods...

But that wasn't it entirely. Nightmares were one thing she could shake off. She was 19, not 9. She knew the real nightmare was over, and night terrors wouldn't kill her. However, one thing she couldn't handle was corporate espionage. When the remaining STARS team members headed to France to "take down the Umbrella HQ" (whatever the hell that meant), Rebecca had opted to remain behind and continue work at the RPD. Neither Chris, Jill, nor Barry had questioned her judgment. They all thought of her as just a kid, and they weren't far off, but why couldn't they see that she was the only one of them acting reasonably? They were an over-glorified team of detectives and SWAT thrown together to make the city feel better in the midst of a cannibal serial killer roaming the streets. More than half of them were slaughtered by the monstrosities in the forest, and now the remaining few were gonna do...what exactly? Blow up the Umbrella HQ? Infiltrate it? Complain to the PR team that a side effect of using their products was zombification? Rebecca wasn't up for it. And as the only remaining, qualified detective remaining in the precinct at the moment, she'd had plenty to keep her busy. She definitely slept good at night, just not at home.

Who knew what Umbrella had on STARS? With the abominations they'd created in that mansion, they seemed capable of damn near anything in her mind. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that Umbrella had profiles on each of them, including where they lived. Rebecca had never considered herself paranoid, but she needed her rest more than ever these days, and she wasn't gonna get it if she was too preoccupied with the idea of a stealth assassin lying in wait to slash her throat. The cot in the dark room wasn't so bad anyway. Plus, at the back of the station, the room was quiet, and (who would have guessed it?) dark. She would return to the station after eating dinner, claiming to have forgotten something in her office. She'd stash an overnight bag under her desk with a toothbrush, change of clothes, and whatever else inside. On her off days, she'd have to sneak in, but she was pretty good at that.

But on a night like tonight, she wouldn't look out of place trying to find somewhere to lay her head. It seemed the T-virus had finally made it's way into the city, just like her and the rest of the STARS team had predicted. But unlike them, she hadn't run off to play James Bond. She'd stayed to protect the city she'd grown up in and loved. She'd urged her parents to get out, but they were understandably puzzled when she couldn't tell them why. Luckily, they'd obliged her and used some saved up airline miles to visit her sister in San Francisco. Thank God they had, because now they probably wouldn't have been able to get out. A government quarantine was inevitable now that the outbreak was city-wide, and her only option, and everyone left in the city's only option was to stand and fight for survival.

But she'd done enough fighting for one day. All she wanted now was to find some place to spread out and crash. She'd really gotten accustomed to that cot over the past few weeks too, then Dean had to go and ruin it. Like she was gonna share the cot with him. Like he wouldn't try and feel her up or something. As if. It was good to know that as bad as things were, she wasn't so desperate as to sleep with Dean. She'd stick with the pocket vibrator she kept stashed in her overnight bag, thank you very much. Speaking of which, she could have definitely used the stress relief right about now. She wasn't far from the bathroom upstairs, and she was right next to the grand, wooden stairs leading upwards. She could take care of business, then brush her teeth and get ready for bed. Wherever that would be. Climbing the steps, she couldn't help but notice how deserted this area of the station was this time of night. Compared to how busy it was during the day anyway. Kinda creepy. Like a bad dream. As if she hadn't had enough of those lately. She pushed into the women's restroom, checking all of the stalls to make sure she was alone. She set down her bag in the stall furthest from the door, pulled down her work pants and sat down on the toilet. Digging through her bag, she found the vibrator, thought for a moment about the noise it may cause, then turned it on anyway.

Kevin and Tucker talked in the parking lot, lost in conversation and unaware of their surroundings. Neither man noticed when the slight wind blowing through the trees seemed to stop or when the chirping of the crickets did. Under cover of the night, a pitch black figure leapt from an adjacent rooftop to the roof top of the RPD. Neither man noticed the arrival of The Devil, but luckily for them, he had not come for either of them. He'd picked up on the scent from three miles away, similar to how a male dog picks up on the scent of a bitch in heat. The woman.

No, the girl.

Rebecca exited the bathroom with her bag over shoulder, feeling much more relaxed, and more ready for sleep than ever. She headed toward the old STARS office, sure to be deserted with the stigma around the team now. The ones that had died were memorialized by the RPD, but the few that returned were pretty much outcast by their fellow officers when they wouldn't reveal anything that had happened. Friends had died in front of their very eyes that night, but they couldn't say a damn thing. They'd all decided that was for the best. For now anyway. Rebecca noticed again how quiet this area of this station was, but the second floor made more sense. There was the STARS Office, then the library, then the Chief's Office. All areas most employees tried to avoid during the day, let alone at night. Turning the corner leading to the STARS hallway, Rebecca felt a sudden chill.

"Goddamn it. It's a creepy place. Get over it, kid." She said aloud to herself.

A large, gloved hand shot from around the corner and closed in around her throat, pulling her back around the corner with it. She found herself raised against the wall, all oxygen cut off, face to face with...God, she didn't know. A giant of a man clad all in black leather, but not a man at all. One eye. No lips forming a permanent, mock grin.

"Stars." It spoke right into her face, ghastly breath wafting it's way up to her nose.

It rose it's other arm, and a large purple tentacle emerged from under the sleeve of it's trenchcoat. Rebecca began struggling now, even though she knew it was useless. Liquids began seeping from the tentacle, not unlike the juices that had been seeping out of her back in the bathroom. God, what a sick final thought. Her hand fell from the things hand around her throat, clearly too large and powerful, to the bag still strapped over her shoulder. Vibrator, mouthwash, belt, tampon, no gun. No gun. No gun. Where was it?!

As the world began turning gray, Rebecca pulled out the can of spraying alcohol she'd argued with herself about packing. She pressed down on the nozzle and sprayed the giant right in it's good eye. It immediately let go to favor it, and she dropped hard on her ass. With barely enough wherewithal to stand, she grabbed the shoulder bag and took off down the hall. The giant let out an inhuman scream of frustration and pain behind her. She reached for the door leading to the next hallway, but felt the same large, gloved hand grasp her bag and yank her backwards. How the hell?! She'd been way ahead of it. She ducked a giant sized fist that would have taken her head off, and fell backwards onto a bench behind her. Above the bench, a metal bar extended from the wall upon which a pair of handcuffs dangled. Grabbing for them as the giant reached for her face, Rebecca clasped the cuff around the wrist of the monster, managing to click it closed twice. Not much, but she was amazed they'd gotten around the giant wrist at all. Scooping up the bag again, Rebecca took off back down the hall again. She heard the metal bar detach from the wall with a crash, but didn't look back. Still running, she reached down into the bag and found the handgun she'd been looking for earlier. Coming to a stop in a dead end corridor, she turned to see the monster rounding the corner, discarding the now destroyed cuffs from it's wrist. It didn't run at her now, instead opting to slowly descend upon her now that she had no where else to go.

She raised the gun and fired, relieved she'd reloaded the clip after a stint at the shooting range a few days prior. The shot was dead on, right into the middle of the leather trenchcoat. Still, the giant continued toward her. She fired again to similar effect. And again. And again. Rebecca aimed at the head now, but missed when she fired. She fired again and missed again, opting to shoot at the midsection again. She unloaded the 15 round clip into the monster, but, still, it continued towards her, entirely blocking out her view of the hallway behind it. Backed against the wall, Rebecca was trapped now. She tried the door next to her, although she knew it was locked this time of night. Turning, she attempted to squeeze around the monster's giant frame in the tiny corridor, but it's hand wrapped around her throat yet again. Launching her backwards, she hit the back of her head on the sturdy, brick wall. Hovering over her, the giant placed a huge, impossibly heavy boot on her mid-section, pinning her down as if she could even stand if she tried.

"Stars." The giant repeated.

'Stars?' Rebecca thought in the back of her mind. 'S.T.A.R.S.?'

The monster wrapped two big hands around her head and yanked upwards.

ocument here...


	11. Inn

**Resident Evil and all of it's characters, locations, etc. belong to Capcom.**

The pizza delivery boy tore at the long, hairy patch of skin until it stretched and eventually snapped, then popped it into his mouth as if he were enjoying a chicken dinner. A sick orgy of blood and gore ensued just under a block away, as three construction workers feasted on a once beautiful girl no older than 18. One nipped at her neck, similar to how a teenage lover of hers may once have. The second feasted on the fatty tissue of her right breast, leaving little behind. The third opted for the meaty section of her left thigh. Several others were making there way down the block to join in on the meal. Directly across the street in front of a small deli, a lone police officer had been dragged out from under a car and devoured by a gang of twelve, consisting of school children, a deli worker, a social worker, and a fellow police officer. Little remained of him now, and they would soon most likely join the buffet of the young girl across the road. On the other side of the deli, a large transit bus had crashed, mowing over several dozen cars and people before smashing into an apartment building, setting ablaze. The street wasn't the scene of intense feeding and bloodletting seen just one street over, as most of the survivors had taken refuge inside the Apple Inn, a near 80 year old, 3-story structure once visited near exclusively by out of town businessmen. Now, the caretakers had let the structure decay, while newer, more sterile, franchise hotels did big business across town just off the interstate. The main lobby was empty, save for the barricade that had been built in front of the old style revolving door that was the only entrance and exit for the front of the building. Survivors had taken refuge in various guest rooms, broom closets, and bathrooms through out the hotel, relying on a hope against hope that someone would come for them.

The barricade downstairs held, and would hold for quite a while. A giant, heavy, ancient, beautiful, wooden oak desk had been overturned to cover the entirety of the doorway. Various chairs, sofas, potted plants, lamps, and most other décor of the once grand lobby had been stacked to reinforce the security of the large desk. Several of them, clothes torn and flesh severed, absent-mindedly pounded on the heavy oak, but with not near enough force or will to undo the enforcement of the desk.

Up on the roof of the Apple Inn, a plump, well dressed, middle aged woman stared down at the carnage and wreckage only three stories below. Leaning against the brick walling that surrounded the roof, her weight, in addition to the aged and neglected structure, caused the brick to give way. She fell forward, one high heeled foot catching against the wall, but soon giving way. She fell head first to the street below, rotating in mid fall, and landing feet first on the concrete sidewalk below. Both legs broke as she landed, and she could hear the fractures before she could feel them. Soon, however, she did, and she was screaming. Partly in pain, but mostly in fear of the inhuman, but once very human crowd now surrounding her, growing ever closer. Her cries became almost inhuman themselves as her throat was bitten into, blood flowing into her vocal chords, choking her and making her gag on her own copper taste. As the near dozen began to feast on her corpse, all was quiet once again.

45 minutes later, the once heavy woman was nothing but bone and sinew. A lone creature gnawed on a meatless finger bone, the others all moving on to search for the next meal. Turning the finger every which way, the thing sucked and bit, but found nothing of sustenance. Too involved in it's frantic search for a single taste of flesh, it never saw what was coming.

The patrol car mowed over the thing standing over the skeleton. It was sucked in under the traction of the wheels and damn near torn apart. The already fragile bones and rotten skin resulted in an explosive spray of crimson, and then, it was truly, finally no more.

Kevin stopped just short of running the car into the Apple Inn wall. There were none of the things near enough to do him any harm, so he unbuckled his seat belt, and exited the car. Looking up, he saw he'd measured his stop just right, and had parked directly below a first floor window high above the ground. A group down the street took notice of him and began their slow advance toward him, but he was already on the roof of the car, climbing onto the ledge just above. Lifting upwards on the broad window, it didn't budge. Mustering all of his strength, he tried it again, but didn't feel any sort of progress in getting it to open. A small crowd of them had begun to gather below him now. Taking out his handgun, he aimed and fired, not at the crowd below, but into the empty lobby. The glass shattered, leaving behind dangerous pieces of jagged shards. Using his combat boots, he kicked away the sharp remains of the glass pane. The window had been quite large, and he hardly had to duck down to step into the inside portion of the ledge. The drop into the lobby was about ten feet, and there was no table, chair, or sofa remaining below to break his fall. Carefully maneuvering, Kevin attempted to get himself into a seated position. From there, he would carefully climb down from the ledge. Before he could get down into the seated position, one section of the concrete ledge gave way, and Kevin tumbled to the hard, carpeted floor below. He landed feet first, but immediately felt a stinging in his ankle. Taking the pressure off of it, he hobbled around to find a nearby chair to sit down, but found none as they were all a part of the massive barricade in front of the revolving doors. He plopped down, landing hard on his ass on the thinly padded concrete.

"Shit!" he shouted aloud to himself.

He pulled up his pants leg and unzipped his right boot to begin messaging his aching ankle. It was already beginning to swell, but it didn't feel broken. He'd broken the very same ankle back in high school right at the beginning of baseball season. It hurt enough to wanna cry back then, but he'd been too pissed about having to sit the season out. Now, broken or not, Kevin couldn't sit this one out. Sliding backwards to lean against the wall, he tried to force himself to relax. He'd been lucky. There could have been one or two or more waiting for him in here after he'd fallen, but the lobby was entirely empty of anyone, living or otherwise. The hotel was entirely quiet, but Kevin remembered places like this were specifically soundproofed a lot of the time. You couldn't afford to be able to hear some tourist banging some prostitute upstairs from the lobby below. For all he knew, the inside of this place was as awful of a blood bath as J's Bar had been. But, God, he hoped not.

Alyssa was here, or had been as of about a half hour ago. She was smart. Smarter than him anyway, and he couldn't see her leaving the security of this place to make a break for it in the streets. The officers that had been sent down here were nowhere to be found, including the backup that Marvin had sent. Kevin had tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. And now. This.

Kevin made to finally attempt to stand when he heard something. Unalarmed by the nature of the sound, he knew he was safe, at least momentarily. This didn't sound like a person, or any living thing. This was a metallic pounding. Like someone was taking a hammer to a porcelain bathtub. He looked about the large lobby, but saw nothing. He couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from, as it seemed to surround him. It slowly faded in volume, but it was still audible, only faintly now.

Not waiting for the sound to begin again, Kevin took it as a sign to get moving. He limped over to the desk and noticed the key rack was entirely empty. No vacancies. He heard a bang behind him, differing acoustically than the metallic racket he'd just heard. This was clearly emanating from the other side of the makeshift barricade. One thump was joined by another, then another, soon the entire jumbled mountain of furniture and décor began to rattle and shift.

"Shit, shit, shit." Kevin hobbled away from the desk as quick as he could, headed towards the staircase on the other side of the room. He would have to pass directly by the front door.

Lamps, ink blotters, sofa cushions, and other various items began to avalanche down into the lobby. The pounding outside continued, joined now by what could only be described as feral groans and growls. Kevin winced as he attempted to put more weight on his right ankle in order to move faster. Preoccupied with the pain in his leg and making it up the staircase and as far away as possible, he didn't notice the oversized, overturned desk begin to descend back to it's righted position. As it's descent increased in speed, he saw it coming down upon him, but with his ankle, it was too late to move. He held his hands up to protect his head and braced himself for impact.

But there was none. He lowered his arms to see the giant desk stuck at a skewed angle, jammed in the doorway and by the various furniture meant to hold it in place. Quickly moving out of it's path, he made for the staircase and began a slow, steady ascent. Behind him, the desk did crash down now. Looking back he saw several dozen of them attempt to cram themselves through the revolving doors all at once, like crazed parents in a toy store on Christmas Eve. The first few made their way in, and immediately began their way towards him. Halfway up the steps, he began using the railings on either side of him as makeshift crutches, speeding up his ascent slightly. Reaching the top of the steps, a single, plain wooden, gray door awaited him. Silently praying, he turned the knob and it opened easily. Quickly checking either side of the doorway beyond, he found nothing but an empty hallway. Moving quickly, he closed the door behind him. In his periphery, he saw bright red, and looked down to see a bright red fire axe at his feet. The edge was covered in blood. Kevin jammed it between the door knob and the floor. He could hear the stairs begin to creak under the weight of the countless mob coming for him and anyone else left inside. Then, the metallic pounding started to emanate from the walls once again. With these sounds filling his head, Kevin painfully made his way down the hall to begin checking the rooms for Alyssa.


	12. Factory

**Resident Evil and all of it's characters, locations, etc. belong to Capcom.**

David double-checked his surroundings, shading his eyes from the mid-day sun. The vast, concrete parking lot was still empty, save for the large, abandoned factory planted in the middle of it, and the black Escalades. Half a mile away, David had spotted several men commuting from the cars to the factory with all kinds of equipment in tow. Having made it past the military checkpoint with ease (there was really only so much perimeter they could cover at this point in time), David had made it out of the woods literally, but not quite figuratively. The pain in his ribs had begun to subside, but he was starting to itch just about everywhere. Especially, well...down there. Seems Michelle hadn't been entirely clean after all. And whatever chaos had ensued at the Raccoon Motel up in the woods, that was nothing compared to what had gone down in the city. David had never been particularly religious, but had been raised Catholic. For his money, this seemed like what the end of the world must be like. Possibly even was it, but he had no way of knowing. Hadn't encountered a working television or current newspaper in all the miles he'd trekked. Now, he was in the middle of the industrial district just outside of the city. From here, he could see the smoke rising up from the fire in the bowels of the city. Could smell it too. The fire, the ashes, the rot.

Reaching the overhang just above the main entrance of the abandoned factory, David opted to circle around the building. While human contact of any kind would be an immense comfort at that point, David wasn't sure what he was about to walk in on. Chances were, a group of guys going through the effort of making the trip out this far with all that equipment, David likely wasn't invited. Reaching a long, rusty set of steps, David carefully began to ascend them. Taking his time in order to ensure he wouldn't alarm the men inside, as well as to be sure the shaky steps didn't give way, sending him toppling far below. The steps finally ended just below roof level, and David entered the single, flimsy door at the top.

Quickly and quietly closing the door behind him, David's eyes struggled to adjust to the relative darkness of the building. Straining to listen for movement, he heard nothing nearby, but could make out voices echoing from somewhere in the large, empty building. Finally adjusting to the dim light, David realized he was in a large office. Old, large computers remained on the cheaply made desks, and leather office chairs sat undisturbed. Off to his left, a large window stretched nearly the entire length of the office. Looking out, David quickly ducked down. The window looked out over nearly the entire factory, and the men he'd previously seen were all gathered on the ground floor. From his crouched position, David noticed some of the men struggling with a piece of equipment, while most of the men sat in folding chairs, socializing with one another. Nearly everyone was wearing black leather jackets. Suddenly, the front wall of the building was illuminated. David quickly realized the men had been trying to construct a projector. There was no slide over the light, so a white, bright light quickly illuminated the dim factory.

At that moment, the front door of the factory opened, casting more light over the men and the long neglected machinery surrounding them. A lone figure entered the room, a briefcase in tow. A man, tall slim, pale, and balding, although with a long, black pony tail all the same approached the gathering of men in the center of the room. While the majority of the men wore leather jackets, this man was dressed immaculately in an all black business suit.

"Gentlemen!" The man addressed the crowd. "Thank you all for coming. I see there are far less of you than I had anticipated. Very well. All the more wealth to distribute amongst ourselves."

David noticed a small, makeshift stage had been constructed just beneath the projectors expansive glow. The man used a small, well-placed step ladder to take his place on stage.

"I do apologize for such short notice, and I do acknowledge the inconvenience of making the trip out this far. Nevertheless, I promise you, this will be more than worth the trip."

"Gentlemen, whenever you are ready." The man said, motioning to the three men standing next to the projector.

The first slide was placed on the glass, and the word "Umbrella", as well as the company insignia was cast upon the wall, looming over the men and abandoned machinery. "Classified" was stamped over both, making it clear that this slide was a copy of some corporate file. This remained on display for a few moments, before it was taken down and replaced with another. This one was headed "T-Virus Research", and featured extensive text beneath.

"Don't worry, I know it's hard to read all that text at that size, so I'll save you the trouble."

David strained to listen from his position far above the presentation, scratching an itch just above his left elbow.

Over the next half hour, David learned of the capabilities of the T-Virus, an intended bio-weapon meant to heighten the combat abilities of American soldiers. Over the past five years, the Umbrella Corporation, up until this point, a pharmaceutical company, had developed the T-virus and tested it time and time again on everything they could think of from plants, to sharks, to spiders, to dogs, and to humans, never achieving the desired results. Photos were displayed, splashing images of deformed figures, enlarged arachnids, and animated corpses across the large wall of the factory. Before the t-virus could be completed as Umbrella intended, the virus was leaked in a laboratory deep in the woods. Not only were the scientists present infected, but the wildlife of the wooded area as well. Eventually, the virus made it's way to the city, and there they were, stuck right in the middle.

"How you know all this?" a gangster with a deep, Russian accent interrupted.

"An excellent question. I was on the team that developed the virus. I was the only lab worker to avoid infection, or should I say, the only man to overcome it."

The crowd simply stared back at him, puzzled. Laying out the briefcase across a small table on the stage, the man produced a small, clear vial, containing a blue substance inside that looked to David like laundry detergent.

"I survived with this. It doesn't take a genius or Nostradamus to foresee the virus getting out. At the volatile level the virus had reached, I worked in private to develop an antidote should anyone become infected from the close contact required in testing it. They did, as did I, but, fortunately, the antidote was effective, and here I am."

An uncomfortable silence settled in across the men in the large factory.

"Well? Don't you see? Don't tell me I have to spell this out for you? The antidote? Don't you see how valuable this is? How even more valuable it will become? For all intents and purposes, we are trapped in Raccoon City with these abominations. Not only that, but with the chance that we too may become infected. Imagine the price someone will pay for the antidote that will save a loved one's life? Their own life?"

More silence from the audience.

"I don't believe you!" Someone shouted out.

"Aha. And why should you? Very smart businessmen you all are? Stevie! Let us commence, Exhibit A, yes?"

Two shadowy figures emerged from the back of the factory. As they reached the more illuminated portion of the large room, David noticed one was blindfolded and handcuffed, being led along by the other. Stepping onto the stage, the blindfolded man was forced down into a chair. The bag over his head was removed, revealing a bald, black man, gagged with tape over his mouth. The right half of his face was partially burned, as was the security uniform he wore.

"I did consider finding a subject already infected with the t-virus." The well-dressed man spoke. "It would certainly be much more...efficient time-wise. However, I thought you could all use a much more, fool-proof, viscerally exciting demonstration. Stevie! Exhibit B, please."

Two figures appeared once again from behind the audience. Once again, one was handcuffed and a bag was placed over it's head, however, it was also shackled at the feet. Leading it onto the stage, Stevie removed the black bag, revealing a man with no right cheekbone, the right eye hanging from it's socket. The rotting corpse began to convulse and struggle against it's bonds, but Stevie held it at bay from behind. The rotting man began to growl and groan angrily, struggling to get at the black security guard in the seat in front of it. The black man tried to struggle but was firmly strapped to the chair.

"This unfortunate, not so volunteer will be infected by this t-virus carrier. Signs of infection will begin to show after about two hours, so I hope you all brought a magazine. At this point, he will be injected with the t-virus antidote. At the three hour mark, if he isn't a reanimated corpse trying to turn us all into his own personal buffet, you'll know the antidote worked. So...Stevie, if you will."

Stevie approached the security guard and grabbed him by the arm. Yanking down on the charred sleeve of the man's uniform, Stevie left the man's large bicep exposed. The security guard continued to struggle, even more so, as Stevie led the rotting half-cheeked man over to him. The thing thrashed and gnawed at the air until it's mouth reached the security guard's bicep. Biting down into the muscle, the thing had to bite down hard, but eventually tore a chunk from the man's arm. The man attempted to scream in agony and terror, but was prevented from doing so by the tape over his mouth. The chunk of meat the thing had managed to tear off fell from it's mouth. Still bound and shackled the thing sank quickly to the floor and attempted to eat the flesh off of the ground. The well-dressed man nodded to a receptive Stevie who shot the thing in the back of the head, putting an early end to it's snack.

"Now, gentlemen, we wait."

From his perch, David watched the bound security guard, now pouring sweat, writhe in agony in his bounds as the t-virus began to make it's way through his veins.


	13. Head

All rights to Resident Evil owned by Capcom.

Marvin kicked open the door of the RPD radio room. Renee, the dispatcher unfortunate enough to be on duty tonight of all nights, didn't so much as look up. She listened intently to the frantic tones of the woman on the other end of the line. She lived in midtown, and the riot was right at her doorstep. Literally. Renee could hear them attempting to barge in to the woman's home, and tried to assure that help was on the way. But she knew it wasn't. Not for awhile.

"What's the latest on 11?" Marvin asked, referring to the badge number of Kevin Ryman.

"Shit." Renee cupped her hand over the receiver of the phone. "He let me know he was 10-8 to the Apple Inn about an hour ago, but I haven't had time to check his 20 myself."

"I know." Marvin said, glancing at the blinking lights on the phone. All eight lines on hold. He couldn't remember ever seeing that happen before.

Suddenly, Marvin's own radio crackled to life. "R-91, 10-19 to the front lobby, ASAP. I repeat...oh, God...front lobby, ASAP."

Marvin could only sigh and rub his tired eyes. What now? He hurriedly exited the radio room as Renee answered another frantic call.

The black security guard seemed on the verge of collapsing from his seat. Visible beads of sweat poured down his face and he was shaking. The well dressed man motioned to Stevie.

"Main event time!" The well dressed man addressed the crowd.

Stevie produced a syringe containing a large amount of creamy, white liquid, and injected it into the infected security guard's neck.

As Marvin entered the cavernous front lobby of the Raccoon City Police Department, he noticed a group of officers attempting to console the receptionist. She was in tears. Manetti, a 10 year veteran of the street, had just come in from outside when he noticed. Manetti looked damned scared, especially atypical of a man who had survived several assassination attempts from various drug capos.

"Lieutenant Branagh, you're gonna need to see this!" Manetti motioned him over. Marvin tried to convince himself he was prepared for the worst. He wasn't.

Within the hour, the black security guard had stopped sweating and shaking. He sat upright and watched all of the gangsters with clear and alert eyes as the well dressed man took the stage again.

"Gentlemen, clearly, these results speak for -"

The security guard pounced on the well dressed man and his large hands wrapped around the scientist's thin neck. Stevie intervened quickly, bringing the butt of his gun down on the back of the security guard's head. The well dressed man picked himself up and dusted off.

"Stevie, end him."

The gunshot rang out across the factory like a cracked gong.

Marvin stepped out into the autumn night air expecting a riot right in the RPD courtyard, but was met instead with relative serenity. Puzzled, he looked to Manetti who wordlessly pointed up across the yard. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary initially, Marvin's eyes finally caught an unusual shape up on the fence surrounding the courtyard. His mind leapt to a gruesome Halloween prop, simply trying to rationalize what he was seeing, but he quickly realized that was impossible. Speechless, he took an unbalanced step forward to get a better look at the decapitated head of Rebecca Chambers impaled on the fence surrounding the RPD courtyard.

Stevie fell like a ton of bricks, a hot stream of blood gushing from the singular bullet hole in his forehead. David finally stepped out of the shadows aiming the still smoking gun directly at the well dressed man, who fumbled for his own gun before aiming it dead on back at him.

"Who the fuck are you?" Asked the well dressed man.

"Just a plumber." David answered, noticing every hood in the place had a gun pointed at his head.

"Would somebody save me the bullet, and put this working class zero down and out of my sight, please?"

"Zero I may be, but we've all got more in common than you'd think." David spoke quickly. "I know you all came here for the promise of one thing. You came here for a cure. Whether its you that needs it, or a family member, or a girlfriend. Just like me, you'll pay anything for it. I know it, and you better believe he knows it too."

"Oh, please! I'm not here to extort you people out of your money! I offer you a product, an invaluable, priceless product, for a PRICE, but a price that I assure you is incredibly modest. Is this not still America?"

"The fact that you'd dare dangle a cure in front of these men's faces, a cure to end this goddamn hell we've all been living in, and then put an asking price on it is just about the furthest thing from modest I could think of."

"Well, aren't you just a regular Robin Hood? Mr. Plumber, it would behoove you in the future not to interrupt a man of my stature like you just did. At least not when that man has something important to say. And I do. Gentlemen, I offer you a cure, for a price, sure, but I also come to you today with the offer of employment. I know it's the last thing on your minds, but just try to take this moment to think ahead. Forget the abominations that roam the streets at night for just a moment, and try and think of how you will eat a few months from now. How you'll get around safely. Where you'll sleep at night. It's time to accept the fact that no more help is coming. The little gung ho excursion failed. 'Raccoon City is irredeemable.' That's what your government officials are saying. The quarantine will never be lifted off of this place. They're already building fences all around the city limits. And fences around that, and fences around that. There is no way out. It's time to come to terms with that. With this cure, we will possess a product far more valuable than even diamonds or gold. We will become the 1% of Raccoon City."

A hell of a speech. David was losing in the polls, he could tell.

"So you think you'll be able to run an army of mobsters with your Bill Gates keynote speeches?" David slid down the sleeve on his right arm, exposing a tattoo just below his wrist. "I got this one on the inside while I was serving 3 years. Three years I could have walked away from if I'd only talked. I didn't."

David pulled the sleeve down further, exposing another tattoo on his inside forearm. "I got this one serving 8 years. Same deal." David pulled his sleeve back down. "One thing I am is loyal. Anybody that works for me, gets that cure for free. For themselves or family. WE will be family. These men aren't marks. They're soldiers. There's plenty of people left in Raccoon City to make a living off of. So, what does everybody else think?"

For a moment, nothing, then one gun turned from David to the well dressed man, then another, then another until every gun in the room was pointed at the well dressed man, save for his own.

"Now," David spoke, "I suggest you take us to the cure. Otherwise, I thi-"

"I'm not taking ANY of you ANYwhere! Why would I? You'll just kill me afterwards!"

"First, it would behoove you in the future not to interrupt a man of my stature like you just did. Second, sure, we may kill you afterwards, and we may not. Guess there's only one way to find out..."

Marvin had begun to make his way back inside following the clean up of the horrors in the courtyard, when an explosion lit the night sky and shook the brick walkway beneath his feet. Looking to the east, Marvin knew in his gut where the explosion had emanated from.

"Lieutenant!" Renee's voice crackled over the radio. "RFD dispatchers say the Apple Inn boiler just blew! Brought the whole damn building down! You don't think..."

"Goddammit, Renee, I don't know. I just don't know what to think anymore."


End file.
